10 years ago... the JSA and the ISA fought, when the ISA won it changed the whole future. When we start this story, it is in Blue Valley, Nevada in 2020 where Courtney Whitmore the New Girl moves with her step-father, his son Mike, and his daughter...
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― GETTING BACK TO THE MANOR, I STARTED TO UNDERSTAND THE FEELING THAT EVERYONE DESCRIBED. When I entered the house I couldn’t hear anything, except my breath. Even the maids and cooks have left for the day, as I had this whole place...to myself now. And for once in my life...why couldn’t I be dead also. Why was I left alone? Why was I left alone in this solitary place, to hear my own breath, and to even hear my own silence. To hear my thoughts and to be here so...so alone. It brings back to many memories of when I was left alone at home...if I even could call this manor...my home.
Gaining the wealth and coverance of what my father had helps, I gain his ideas, and wealth. But what is wealth when you're all alone? What is wealth when you have no one to share it with? And that is what makes me wonder, why in the hell am I not crazy yet...why did everything have to happen to me? Why did the King family have to tear each other apart, and why wasn’t I there? Why am I left with the void in my heart? That I could have done something to prevent my own brother's death. And that I could have possibly saved him.
Walking up the stairs of the manor and heading into the office I could feel the old glares, the old chats, and every memory with my father, and even Henry when we came into his study. The back hidden room behind his shelving that held the dark and gruesome cloak that while my father became this monster...that he killed not only my brother...but my mother. Who was the kindest woman to everyone, and was a caring mother. Was killed because she didn’t want the man that was a part of killing her brother; my uncle Sylvester Pemberton’s death was something that she could just...just brush aside.
And then how my brother died for not siding with our monster of a father. The one who decided because of the straight and loud thoughts of man made them bad. Which made it right...right for him to kill them. And how my brother stood up for both of us, disagreed, and even went against my father and still managed to be killed in the wildfire of the rubble falling down on him. As he had no heart of killing his own son, and wife. But then how I felt yesterday when stabbing him in the chest, and how it all felt. It felt….good, I felt my body being relieved. I felt everyone’s trapped souls in my father’s mind being brought back to them. And how everyone got the avenging they needed. And how I got the revenge...I needed it.
But upon being in the study I saw a secret door that led to a small hallway and then a storage room. It all caught my eye when it held things that my brother, and I. Haven’t seen since we were...hell, six..maybe seven at the latest. But it was all before we moved to Blue Valley. Everything in this room, belonged or was of my mother. Which is kinda creepy, even for my father. But it held everything of her, and a few more photos of her and her siblings. As I quickly grabbed one of the photos. Seeing the day of her wedding and some photos of that day where it was just the three siblings. My mother, Sylvester, and…..Shelie, Shannon, oh….Sharon. She looked like she was happy for my mother as they all were so close together.
The thought of knowing that one of them...maybe Sharon since my Uncle and mother are dead, but for her to be possibly somehow alive...is reassuring and I don’t have my high hopes, but if she is. I would be able to have someone left….someone who can help me, someone who is family. Since I have lost everything. Except the memories….I have the memories, but what good does that do for a sixteen year old, who has her wealth, and these abilities that I never wanted.
Looking in the corner of the room was a wooden box that caught my eye as it looked like a chest full of something as I took the wedding photo back down on the shelf, as I headed over to pull the chest out as I dragged it to the middle of the room since nobody but the maid is downstair is here, but she is wearing her headphones and can’t hear me currently.
Lighting a red candle in the darkened room, I tried opening the chest until I found a key on a string as I opened the box, seeing old photos and documents, along with writings. I picked up one of the photos to see a photo that looked like it was one from my mother’ childhood, a newspaper in a frame, the headlines said ‘Three costumed young girls by the names Airheart, Einstein, and A Girl of A Thousand Gimmicks help save a orphanage from burning down.’ Looking at the photo they all were masked but the three girls were holding each others shoulders as they were leaving the site. Each one of them was wearing costumes like the pictures Roy showed me of Pat when he was Stripsey.
Putting it down I continued to take things out until I found a costume, one that seemed to have details around the sleeves, ankles, and the mask was neatly designed with lines surrounding it’s frame. Moving it and looking at more of the body it had a belt that looked like it used to hold tools or items in it. And the logo on the suit was a very interesting shape of design, it looked like a gear partially and then a girl on it. And in that moment I knew it belonged to her back in her days, ‘A girl with a thousand gimmicks’ the voice of my father rang in my head remembering what he said on the tape.
But then the words of ‘Starling's worst enemy’ reminded me that there's hope that Sharon Pemberton; Starling was still out there, somewhere. Because my mother used to when she was younger dress up in a costume running around with her two siblings helping normal people, and having hope to change the world. Then the least I can do is just be hopeful in this time of darkness.
Looking at the bottom was an item that seemed to be a locket of some sort when I grabbed it. It has letters engraved in it M.P., which must have stood for Merri Pemberton. As it has a charm which was a jewel of my mother’s birth month next to the locket as I opened it. Inside was a picture of a young blonde girl, with her bright smile, as she had green eyes, but she looked happy as she was standing next to my mother most likely. Seeing that the girl next to the blondie had ginger hair, and another big smile that brought me happiness in the moment. Which makes me think the blonde girl was her sister, as the photo must have been taken back when they were teenagers, as they locket dated 1989.
Holding it in my hand I looked away thinking how it must have been during that time for my mother. But surprisingly no flashes came this time when I touched the locket, as it must have been luck this time not to see my mother and Sharon at this moment. But in a way just seeing the photo gives me enough information of how close the two of them looked.
Shaking my head I looked back in reality to the room knowing this was what my father held from my brother and I after all those years. Every year we would see less and less of her until seventh grade, as he then stored all of it, in this room. And now I am looking at the stuff that must have been at least thirty years old due to some of it being her childhood stuff. But knowing he killed her just makes it worse seeing the photo of my mother and father during their wedding day at their ceremony.
Getting up I grabbed it as I sat back down. I could see him smile at the camera with my mother. Knowing it was maybe his last moments of happiness until he continued on his darker route of being just pure psychopath he was underneath his serious face. As next to my mother seemed to be what looks like Slyvester who had a smile but his eyes said he hated this, along with Sharon who was surprisingly next to Jordan Mahkent smiling in the photo.
When putting the photo back up I grabbed the locket and put it on knowing that, it was one of the things that I could feel my mom through without seeing her physically. Since I felt like I was in her presence knowing that she would hug me right now if she was here, and tell me it’s alright to feel pain, and that we would be in this together.
After walking out of the room with the red candle, that wax was dripping as the candle was much shorter. I closed the door and headed back to see my fathers study as I grabbed the photo in his old vault and took it with me, closing it as I held the photo close knowing that deep down I was not alright. But at least knowing that I feel her presence helps.
